A count by any other name
by PattycNyc
Summary: The Force comes to Westeros, but not to smash all, like the Hammer of the Emperor, and not to spark the flame of the light side like The Grand Master, the force shall truly find balance in a Game of Thrones.
1. Chapter 1

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..._

 _War. The Republic is crumbling under attacks by the ruthless Sith Lord, Count Dooku. There are heroes on both sides. Evil is everywhere. In a stunning move, the fiendish droid leader, General Grievous, has swept into the Republic capital and kidnapped Chancellor Palpatine, leader of the Galactic Senate. As the Separatist Droid Army attempts to flee the besieged capital with their valuable hostage, two Jedi Knights lead a desperate mission to rescue the captive Chancellor..._

 **Ω**

 **Battle over** **Coruscant** **19BBY**

 **Aboard the Invisible Hand**

The silent flashes of turbo-laser fire, exploding fireballs descending into the upper atmosphere of the planet below, and the thrum of two lightsaber locked in the Millennia old dance of Jedi and Sith was the backdrop of the fall of the face of the C.I.S.

The opponents, one old yet spry, and one at the peak of his vitality, clashed in what could be called (if any of the audience cared to give it a title, or wanted the holovids of this to surface), one of the best saber battles ever seen in the war so far. Anakin Skywalker, The-Hero-With-No-Fear (a misnomer at best, for he was full of fear, rage and jealously), battled against one of the BEST saber duelist of the last 500 years, Count Dooku.

"I sense great fear in you, Skywalker. You have hate. You have anger. But you don't use them." Dooku, using the Force to try and influence the mind of Anakin through the power of Dun Möch. This, however, only brought forth the well of rage that Anakin, throughout the course of the war, nurtured and developed into a wildfire. Barely kept at bay through meditations (hard as they were for someone so ready to jump into the fires of war), his rage, coupled with the fear of losing his secret wife, and the jealously that he felt towards his own mentor and friend Obi-Wan Kenobi, left Anakin with a hair-thinned trigger.

Which the Count just pulled…

Bursting forward with speed, power, and skill cultivated through fire, and with a touch of the Dark Side, Anakin battered the defenses of the Sith Lord. Realizing his mistake, the Dark Lord's disciple fought with even more ferocity, his earlier grace and fluidity, given way to desperate strikes, seeking for leverage and positioning.

He fell.

Under the brute strength of Anakin's style, coupled with his, though unrefined, staggering power in the Force Dooku lost both his hands in a flash of ruthlessness and plasma.

"Good Anakin, Goood," the smooth tenor voice of Chancellor Palpatine, the secret Dark Lord of the Sith, sounding out from his place in the seat (conveniently, overlooking the battle, no doubt influencing this flow of battle through the Force). Palpatine looked over the scene of his former student and unwitting pawn in the grander game of conquest, with barely concealed humor.

"Kill him… Kill him now"

 _A heartbeat_

"I shouldn't, it's against the Jedi Code" Anakin pleads. The internal war of whether he should give in and take the head of Count Dooku, a man that has caused the death and subjugation of so many beings, nations and worlds.

The Count, looking at his master with unmasked confusion, fear, then looking back to Anakin: Acceptance.

" _Do it",_ The soon-to-be Emperor of the galaxy said, his true Darkness edging slightly into his voice, his eyes flashing yellow for a microsecond.

With a flex, flash, and finality, one of the most public Dark Lords of the Sith, one of the greatest swords the galaxy ever saw, and one of the most skillful Force practitioners in the last 100 years died… and the War continued.

XXXX

 **AC 259**

The war of the "Ninepenny Kings", the bards are calling it. _'The war of false kings, and anarchy is what it is'_ he thought. The House of Selmy, though small, was a house that was pivotal in the defense of the Stormlands, and because of his son, far more prestige and honor was to come to his house. 'Stupid, brave child', Lyonel Selmy thought, bemoaning the recklessness of his son, 'Barristan the Bold they call you, yet you ran from your duty as the heir to serve as a bodyguard to kings, instead of making sure that this family survives.'

"-ord!"

The slapping of feet rushing to his position cause him to look up.

"My Lord!" The servant rested his hands on his knees grabbing, more that breathing, the air into his lungs. "Lady... Baby... **Whew**... *Pants even harder*"

"What is happening Usain?!" Lyonel, more disturbed by the sight of his Man-at-Arms out of breath, than any news that he could bring him. Usain, a man of dark ebony skin, sings that pointed to his heritage of the Summer Island native, was powerfully built man with legs and arms that could break a knight with a few blows. To see him now, panting as if he ran from the wall to Kings Landing, was unnerving.

After panting for a few more moments, Usain gather himself finally and looked at his lord, "Your lady wife is giving birth".

"Oh"

And then he ran with all his might to his lady wife's chambers.

XXX

Humans are strange creatures.

Not particularly powerful in body, they instead are blessed by the Gods, or God, or whatever force that is out there in the heavens, with the unrivaled ability to create and reshape the world to their liking and benefit. No other being on the planet has Humanities ability to, from the smallest rock to the largest castle, forge a path for themselves through sheer dogged persistence.

Yet for all their vaulted ability to create and their Gods blessed talent...

The silence of a new born can bring them low.

 _'What have I done to offend the Gods? Would they but look upon my wife and I and see our sorrow and relent? I would trade places with any man, if my child would simply draw breath'_

The unexpected wails of his wife were the only sounds in the bedchamber, the smell of urine, feces and after birth wafted slowly out the window. The labor was long and intensive, nearing 20 hours of screams, may times he feared that his wife would be taken by The Stranger. Yet she clanged to life fiercely, the same, sadly, could not be said about his son.

'Pregnant, yet not showing for 9 months? How in-the-name-of-the-gods could this have happened?'

Lyonel paced, slowly, fearing that he would disturb his wife even further. A baby is cause for celebration, when it is planned, a even with the seed quickening inside, the baby is not always guaranteed. This is why so many parents do not announce to friends and family until the woman is heavy with pregnancy, the risk in this land, is too great. Far more dangerous is to announce too early after the birth itself, so many newborns have slipped into the waiting arms of The Stranger.

To have a child born, with no warnings, and be a still born at that, is a blow that was so powerful, that even now Lyonel had to lean on the wall to prevent himself from falling. Looking over to his son he thought, _'It was not thought that she could even become pregnant again, Barristan was such a difficult birth, and he nearly ripped her in two.'_

*Silence*

 _'What is my wife doing?!'_ Lyonel mentally screamed as he watched, transfixed by the sight, of his wife offering her breast to her son, rocking him and cooing. Blood coating the mouth and skin of his child.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Lyonel roared, his wife, a Donna of house Bulwer, a cousin to the current lord, though not close to her kin, was trying to feed the corpse of his son, pale with the touch of death. As he began to stalk forward, the beginnings of a black rage creeping into his heart and limbs, the air in the room grew heavy.

The Lord of Harvest Hall could only watch as the bed, the chairs, even the blood and after birth began to float up. The air growing heavier and heavier. The stone floor cracking and the pressure mounting.

Eventually he fell to one knee, unable to stand from the weight falling upon his shoulders. His wife never once taking her eyes off her child. Her eyes, _'By the Old gods and the new, what has happened to her eyes?!'_ Lyonel thought incredulously.

Though he would never understand, the eyes of his wife began to shine with the swirling galaxies, stars innumerable. As he watched, his wife began to grow older and weaker, younger and stronger, until a true agelessness settled upon her.

 **"Live"**

With that one utterance the oppressive weight intensified near to the point of causing Lyonel to cease breathing. As darkness threatened to engulf him vision completely, the weight disappeared, the furniture, blood and afterbirth all fell with a crash, and most shocking of all... _his son cried_.

 **XX**

A soft knock on the door to his solar caused Lyonel to look up from his drink.

"My lord, you called for me?"

"Yes, yes, come in, we must talk"

Usain came to sit in front of his desk, and the two men basked in the warmth of the hearth as the rains poured outside. It had been an Olympiad since his wife passed on, and his son brought back to life through magic, though none he has ever heard of in the legends.

"Usain" Lyonel, looked to his Master-At-Arms, his ebony face not even showing a bit of the ravages of his day in the sun, nor his training of his forces. "I have a task for you, and before you agree, know that I believe that you can do this, and that this is the best thing for my house"

Unease at what could be his lord's request he nodded regardless.

"I will do whatever it is you need of me, my lord."

"Good, then, I need you to watch my son grow, and should he become what I fear him to be... I need you to kill my son... I need you to kill Dooku."

Ω

 **AN:**

 **So! Yea, I decided that I would get this last plot bunny out of my head so that I can then have a working flow between stories. I know that, for any of you who actually care, many are rolling their eyes, but I will not abandon any of my stories!**

 **I just realized that my mind is constantly going from one idea to another and it would be better for me simply to write what I am thinking than let it interfere with other story updates.**

 **With that being said, the schedule thus far will be as follows:**

 **Chapter outline, writing, editing, and posting for True Monarch.**

 **Chapter outline, writing, editing, and posting for Price of Honor.**

 **Chapter outline, writing, editing, and posting for A count by any other name.**

 **I hope to keep it at least one chapter per month, two if and where possible. I am looking for each of these stories to have possibly 30-40 chapters, if not more depending on the conclusions I am looking for the story, and what I hope to accomplish for each.**

 **Any questions, comments, or concerns, please inbox me, follow, share and review this story, so that I can be encouraged to write more.**

 **Have a great day everyone!**

 **Sincerely,**

 **PattycNYC**


	2. Chapter 2

So!

Good Sir, or Ma'am, or Non-binary person, or advanced hive mind. I am sorry to explain this to you, but where the spark of insanity came for this story has died on me, and probably will be for all the stories I have on my profile. If you (yes you!), would like to take this idea and make it your own, simply inbox me. I have some guiding ideas for you with regard to the story.

Life, love, school, and health, have gotten in the way of writing. Please forgive..

I will probably come back to this story at some point, but for now it is discontinued. Too much time has passed between the initial spark and me obsessing over what I wanted to get right in this book that the desire to see it through has died sadly.

I may come back to this again, but for now it is dead. I do dearly apologize for this. I am currently rewriting some pats of it, and may return by the end of the year, but I will say that it is best not to be on the look out for THIS story.

Once again, I am so sorry. To many plot bunnies, not enough space in my head. I will begin to put them into another story and just have a file for plot bunnies that didn't go anywhere at all. Thank you for your likes, replies, and reviews.

Hope to speak to you son!

-PattycNYC


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